Damaged
by Neon Daisies
Summary: "What did he do?" Tony asks flat out. "Besides let you go, which was probably the worst mistake of his life and the best thing that has ever happened to mine." -- Tony and Pepper struggle to get on the same page. Spoilers for IM 1.


**Disclaimer:** if I owned Iron Man or anyone associated with it, I'd probably still write fanfic, but then it wouldn't be fanfic. It'd be canon. Lucky for the Iron Man 'verse I'm on the outside looking in. Credit Stan Lee, Universal, Marvel, and whoever else for intellectual property. Credit Jon Favreau, Mark Fergus & Hawk Ostby, Robert Downey Jr., Gwyneth Paltrow, et al for bringing them to life.

**A/N:** Okay, I already know that some of you have read this. This is a story co-written between myself and 4persephone that she originally posted through her profile. However, during one of the times that this site was doing maintenance and upgrades, that file got corrupted. She deleted the stories in question until she had time to review and edit them. Needless to say, my 4persephone doesn't have a whole lot of free time. However, I have all our original files, and so am posting them under my profile.

For those of you who've never read these fics, please enjoy.

* * *

"Pepper, we need to procreate for the good of the human race."

He says the words one day around lunchtime, while they're both in her office sorting through several mountains of paperwork. Predictably he offers no warning, just introduces the topic with the same kind of half amusement that is so typical of him in the most recent days.

Pepper blinks at him a little from over her clipboard, then sets down her pen and speaks to him calmly. "Tony, if I really wanted to think about the good of our species, I would drug your coffee and take you out to get a vasectomy."

He looks at the cup of coffee in his hand and deliberately sets it down. "Hear me out, Potts. I'm actually serious here."

And he was, which Pepper could see in his face. Which, unfortunately, actually produces something new in her voice – a growing bemusement. "Tony, I will listen to you talk about this and remain serious when you can bring me proof from a doctor that that last battle involved no blows to your head..."

"We'd make beautiful babies, Pepper." He sounds a little wounded.

"Yes well, forgive my skepticism. Why the sudden interest in a massive change of lifestyle?"

He shrugs. "I've just been thinking about it is all. Maybe it's time I settled down, got married, had a few kids...I am almost forty."

Pepper groans a little, then picks her pen back up. She lifts her eyes up to heaven briefly, as if asking for some kind of favor. "For the record, you don't pay me enough to make me to want to deal with this little mid-life crisis."

He crosses his arms, regards her with just the smallest amount of insulted dignity. "It's a midlife crisis for me to notice you're possibly the smartest woman I've ever met _and_ you have a great pair of legs?"

"It is when you stop talking sex and start talking babies. Because quite frankly, most days you can't be bothered to even take care of yourself much less anyone else." She pauses. "And I'm not that smart, Tony, I just have a good sense of humor and lots of years of practical experience not going insane because of your antics."

Tony rolls his eyes. "Pepper, you graduated top of your class. You speak Mandarin Chinese, you can do the Sunday New York Times crossword in under half an hour, and you see through me every time. You're one of the smartest women I know. Hell, one of the smartest _people_ I've ever met. Are you really going to make me pull out your SAT scores and the MENSA fellowship you turned down in college? Because I will if you're going to keep pulling this self-defacing crap."

She frowns at him a minute when he says those words. Then she narrows her eyes and sets down her own cup of coffee. "Okay, what is with you exactly? Because this is moving out of the theoretically amusing realm and into the land of the 'way too real' creepy."

"What's wrong with me realizing there's something missing from my life?" he asks, frowning. "What, I'm not allowed to want any of the things that everyone else does? Is that what you're saying?"

She back peddles immediately. "I never said that." She takes another drink of her coffee. "Still, you have to admit that the timing of your sudden interest in this is a little bit strange."

"No, me asking for the chance to have _your_ babies is strange," he counters. "Me making the observation that we'd make some damn fine looking kids is almost not worth commenting on next to the weirdness of that."

Pepper laughs. "If you want to get pregnant, Tony, I suggest you get back to the lab. Because I'm good, but even I don't have the talent to manage that."

Then as almost an afterthought... "You'd be good with kids. Half the time you're just like them. And you've got more patience than most people realize." Well he did when he wanted to anyway, she admitted with no little sense of amusement.

Tony fairly crows and points a finger. "See! There's the sense of adventure I was hoping for when I brought the subject up."

She should have known better than to encourage him. "If I wanted kids, Tony, I'd adopt some. Or if I'm really crazy I'd hit a sperm bank. Find somebody who plays the drums and has impulse control issues just to balance me out."

She sounds completely serious about the drummer thing. And she thinks that _he's_ weird.

"Yeah, but then you'd miss the fun part of having kids," he informs her disapprovingly. "Well the fun part of making them at least." Personally, Tony finds the idea of a pregnant Pepper intriguing...though not so much so since she brought up the sperm bank option. The idea rubs him wrong on a whole set of levels.

Unless he could find out which bank she wanted to use and bought it…

He delivers a mental head slap to the back of his skull.

Pepper meanwhile, just continues her protest, blissfully unaware of what he's thinking.

"Tony, I rarely get eight hours sleep. Forgive me if I don't exactly make time for sex. A book and a bath is usually a less tiring form of relaxation."

"See, if you'd just give in and started staying at my house like I've been after you to do, you wouldn't be so sleep deprived." He grins. "I like the idea of you in a bathtub. It has some definite possibilities."

"Tony..." She actually blushes. "You just _defined_ the reason I refuse to be your roommate."

He's not the least bit embarrassed or apologetic. "Well, you'd have more time to sleep if you didn't have to commute. And that _was_ your top reason for not having sex."

"My top reason for not having sex," she corrects him calmly, "is because a vibrator takes up less space and makes less mess than marrying or even dating a man."

He's predictably distracted by her mention of a vibrator. A very vivid image of her springs to life in his mind. She's…

'No,' he tells himself. "I have maid service, Pepper. And a very large house."

"Tony, I am not having sex with you." She says it for the record. "I like my job and whether you admit it or not, you kind of need me. Besides," she takes a sip of her coffee. "Chastity is often under-rated. It has certainly been more pleasant than at least five out of six of my current ex-boyfriends."

He ignores the boyfriend reference, at least for the moment. "You're right. I do need you. What does that have to do with us having sex? If anything, it should make things easier. For god's sake, Pepper, we're already practically married. Why the heck is it not in my best interests to want to be your lover?"

"Practically married? In what way?" She can't believe she's asking the question. Maybe it's her coffee that's actually drugged. She reaches over and picks up his mug, sticks a finger in the liquid to test the flavor. Then she switches their mugs around and reaches for the small pot of creamer

"Well, you run 95% of my life now. You spend 95% of your time at my house or in the offices I own. Might as well consolidate both our time. Besides, I can't really see myself having kids with anyone else."

She snorts, like he's said something particularly idiotic. Which he knows he hasn't, since he's been paying attention. "Tony, I'm not going to let you get me pregnant just because it's convenient to your schedule. Besides...eight months without high heels? There would have to be a hell of a bonus in exchange for that."

"Well, if you were married to me you'd never have to worry about where your next set of Manolos were coming from. And I take exception to that crack about my schedule. We both know I don't give a damn about it. What I was saying was I don't mind if you run my entire life. How many men have ever said that to you, Pepper?"

She blinks at him a moment. "Tony, despite your skewed perspective, you and I are not married. I _don't_ run your life...if I did you would actually listen to me more than fifty percent of the time." Also there'd be no more women in the house, she acknowledges quietly. Because she doesn't much like the thought of infidelity. Oh and she might have no issue with doing 'couple stuff' – like straightening his tie in public or stealing his food when she's hungry…

She looks down at the cup in her hand and curses softly under her breath.

"Pepper, I always listen. It's just that sometimes I don't obey. I never said I'd be whipped. It's not in my nature." Tony sounds fairly amused, and she wonders if he's just traced the path of her thoughts.

"Tony, I wouldn't whip you, you'd enjoy it too much. Besides, leather and piercings have always been more of my kink." She pauses a moment after the words slip out, looks across the table and sees him raising an eyebrow. "Okay, I think I'm having a aneurysm," she admits after a moment, laying down her head and thunking it repetitively on the table

"Yeah well, join the party. First vibrators and now whips? Be still my heart. Forget about the worst thing you've caught me doing..." He shakes his head.

She gets even redder and he chuckles softly as the room seems to narrow and shrink.

"Admit it, Pepper, it makes sense. The only way either of us will find anyone else to make a life with anyway is if you quit and move to Rhode Island or something. And I'd miss you too much if you did that. So this is the lot we've been dealt."

She keeps on thumping her head against the surface. "Okay, I think it's time I take that six and a half weeks of previously unclaimed vacation. Because I am not drunk and I am not feverish but I'm actually having this conversation, and you are starting to make _sense_."

She lifts her head and looks him right in the eye. "And Tony, my world can't handle the schism. Really, I mean it. It _can't_."

Tony is unbent, and she tries not to be surprised. "What schism? How big could the changes possibly be if we became lovers? I mean, I'm pretty much completely dependent on you now. You can't possibly think that would change if we slept together."

"Sex changes everything, Tony. Bad sex in particular, which I'm pretty sure is what you'd get," she finally acknowledges quietly.

"Wha...? Wait, which one of us are you dissing?" he asks in shocked disbelief.

They sit there for several minutes in uncomfortable silence, her studying her coffee cup and him studying her. She chooses not to answer the question finally, getting up from her desk. "Look, I'm gonna make us some lunch. Do you want cheese with the ham on your sandwich, or just Dijon dressing?"

He can't let it go. "For the record, Ms. Potts, I find you very sexy."

She sighs a little as she looks back down at him. "Has anyone anywhere ever managed to get you to take a hint? Because I just gave one now."

"Not one I didn't want to take," he informs her calmly, continuing to study her with an uncomfortable kind of intensity.

She doesn't sound angry at him just a little resigned. "Not everything you think you want in life turns out that great when you actually get it. I'm trying to give you a heads up, so please be a gentleman and stop pushing the issue."

He stands and intercepts her before she can leave the room. "And sometimes you're looking for the right thing in the wrong places." He kisses her before she can protest. The kiss is warm and sweet and just a little toe-curlingly intense.

But then she pushes away, and he _knows_ she's afraid.

"You shouldn't have done that," she whispers after a moment. She's blushing like a tomato and refusing to meet his eyes.

"Good luck getting me to regret it," he informs her baldly. "I was getting sick of ignoring it."

"You don't understand," she finally whispers.

"What don't I understand? Because if you explain it right, I'm pretty sure I can catch on. I hear I can be smart when I want to be."

She finally looks up and he's stunned at the look in her eyes. "I'm not the type to be a good wife to anyone. It's not how I'm made."

"Says who?" he demands.

She sighs. "Says my now happily remarried ex-husband."

She slips away when he freezes in shock. Little does she know he's mentally beating the crap out of the bastard who let her think so little of herself. "Pepper…" He reaches out a hand, but she's already outside of his grasp.

"Mustard or ranch on your sandwich Mr. Stark?" Her tone is calm but a little bit monotone.

"Mustard," is the answer he gives her as she passes through the door.

* * *

It's three weeks before Tony raises the subject again. And in that three weeks he's done a lot of research, and gotten a couple decent answers. Pepper got married right out of college to a man seven years her senior. It lasted eighteen months. He broke it off. 'Irreconcilable differences.'

Tony also knows where the guy lives. And if his talk with Pepper doesn't go well, that might be dangerous knowledge.

Of course, if goes pretty smooth, Tony might end up sending the guy a fruit basket or something. His loss is already Tony's gain after all. And might become more than that.

They're actually at HQ for once. Tony figures Pepper probably won't yell at him here.

"So, thought about it at all?" he asks, completely interrupting the brief she's trying to give him.

"Thought about _what_?" she asks of him peevishly. He just took the last of the pineapple donuts from the platter, and she technically hasn't had time to eat her lunch yet

"Whether or not we'd make good looking babies. Though I suppose I still have to convince you I'd make a pretty understanding lover first." He bites off a third of the donut and sets the rest down on his thin paper plate.

Pepper snorts. "They would be average looking. And I thought we were through with the subject." She sets down the file she's holding and takes the rest of the donut off his plate, nibbling at the edge.

"Average?" he asks, shocked. "What, were you counting on them inheriting the bad halves of our DNA or something?" Tony reaches over and presses the intercom button. "Mary, can you order Pepper a sandwich? Turkey with honey mustard and tomato. No onions. Thanks."

He catches Pepper's look of surprise when he releases the button. "What? Sugar highs do not become you, Ms. Potts." She scowls in his direction and keeps eating the donut. "Hey, as long as I get something into you before you start to crash," he defends himself. "And you really thought I was going to let this go? How long have you known me?"

Her fists tighten just a little, but she finishes the donut.

"You've always been stubborn, Tony, but you've never been an asshole. I actually believe you're capable of occasionally taking a hint." Her voice is level, if a little testy. She's doing a very good job at avoiding his eyes. "You have meetings all afternoon. I suggest you prepare by reading the papers I've just given you."

"I'll do it later. Give me one good reason why –"

"Because if you don't read your briefings before the meetings then you'll not only look uninformed, but you'll also be bored silly through your engineering section rebrief."

It's not what he meant, but they both know she already knows that.

"What did the bastard do?" Tony asks flat out, because he knows she'll keep avoiding this if he doesn't. "Besides let you go, I mean, which was probably the worst mistake of his life and the best thing that has ever happened to mine."

"What makes you think he did anything? Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I just wasn't built for that kind of relationship." He can almost see the quotation marks she puts around the words as they leave her mouth.

There's a tension in her posture, and a hurt in her eyes. And it makes him want to bellow and beat the crap out of someone.

He can't let the comment stand. This will piss her off, but nonetheless, he still _can't_.

And so he pushes forward, keeping his voice deliberately calm. "Maybe you were young. Maybe it was the wrong guy. Maybe it was the right guy and the wrong relationship. I don't know. But he did something wrong if he made you think that you're only capable of 'bad sex.'" He throws the quotation marks back at her. "If bad sex exists it's because of impatient or uncaring partners."

"He's wasn't the first to say it, Tony. And he wasn't the last. Forgive me if after awhile you see a pattern emerging and learn to accept it. All of us are built with certain urges, but that doesn't mean we enter the arena at the same level of talent. I manage a really wicked spreadsheet and make a great three cheese lasagna. I even paint pretty amazing landscape pictures on my rare days off. Don't start trying to make me feel inadequate with the way I live my life, because after ten years I'm pretty damn happy with just being what I am."

"I don't believe it," he says with absolute conviction, and watches her flinch just a bit.

"Yeah, well nobody asked you to. And the way I see it, this was never your business – I asked you to leave it alone. Now read your damn briefings because the meeting is going start in another half an hour and I'll be damned if I let the last two days of preparation go to waste because you're obsessed with some fantasy image you've got stuck inside your head."

She's as close to furious as he's ever seen her. But she's also lying. To both of them.

And the misdirection crap isn't going to work. Not in their world anymore.

So Tony snorts. He actually _snorts_. "Pepper, I know you're going to start your period in two days, which is why that donut and the accompanying sugar high were a really bad idea. I know what you're like on three hours of sleep and three pots of coffee. I've had your heel up my ass more times than I can count, and I've seen you with a hangover. Any 'fantasy images' I have of you are balanced ones, I swear."

She snarls right back at him, "Then you should know I hate pushing. And that I'm about ready to slam this clipboard into your face. The subject is _closed_. Do you fucking understand me?"

"Pepper..." He gently closes his hands around her wrists – effectively neutralizing her threat – and pulls her over to sit on his desk...or at least to lean against it. "I should also mention that I love your high heel addiction, your freckles, the way you nod off after three pots of coffee isn't enough to keep you awake after multiple days of running on three hours of sleep, the way you're not afraid to stick your heel up my ass, and your brain. Well, I'm kinda fond of your body too, but the brain's the clincher."

She stands there and stares at him. Then she sighs in disbelief. "God, you're never going to let this go, are you? What, do I need to go and hire you a red-headed hooker or something? Does it come down to that?"

It's a vicious attack they both know she's going to regret. So he doesn't let himself back down and he doesn't acknowledge her lower lip trembling or the almost invisible flinch.

"Nope. Wouldn't be you. Wouldn't work. And I'm insulted that you think this is purely about sex."

"Yeah, well I'm depressed you're delusional enough to think it's about anything _else_."

He looks at her. Measures the look in her eye. Thinks about the couple days he has before he really will get himself slapped for what he's thinking.

"So... This is all about sex. And only about sex."

"Yes. Well no. Not entirely. It's about the picture you've been building in your brain since I admitted to being married. Which is why I _never _bring it up. I don't need your pity, Tony. I need you to leave me the fuck alone."

She seems to reach her limit, because she actually growls at him. "What the hell is it going to take to get you to drop the subject? Because I'm this close to walking, and if I do, it's unlikely that I'll come back. So what will it be…? Lay out your terms. A week with no meetings? A new toy for the lab? Fill me in here. What's the price for you to mind your own business and give me my privacy back?"

She's so pissed she's practically thrumming as she turns to walk out the door.

"Pepper...." He stands up in front of her so she can't run, but he keeps his voice gentle. "This isn't an attack. I don't think less of you than I did a month ago. And if you leave me I'll be just as lost as I would have been then." She has nothing to say to that, apparently, though she's still glaring at him. He's not surprised, really. If anything she's said is an indication, this is a touchy subject.

But then, she knows about all of his touchy subjects.

"What kind of picture do you think I have in my head?" he asks again.

She stares at him again, for a long span of moments. Then she comes to some kind of internal consensus that he can tell immediately he isn't going to like. "I'll make you a deal, Stark. You can have a demonstration. One night off and me a little liquored up should be more than adequate to settle the question. So pick a night, Mr. Stark. And then we'll get on with our lives." She looks determined, embarrassed and resigned, but she also looks straight at him as she makes the offer.

He sighs. Clenches his fists, and reminds himself that sometimes people in pain hurt other people not because they mean to, but because they don't know how to act any other way.

But he's got the image of her husband in his head right now. And the man's not in a pleasant situation. It takes him a full minute before he can frame what he has to say.

"Tell you what. Some night when I let you off early, come find me and we'll talk. But that's the best I'm offering, Potts – because I'm _not _going to make love to you while you're drunk." He kisses her forehead and murmurs, "Don't ask me to take advantage of you that way."

He backs away far enough to let her run, but she doesn't, she just stares up at him in disbelief. "I said a _little_ liquored, Tony. As in a glass of wine, which usually helps me _relax_."

"You sober or not at all, Pepper. That's the final offer and it's also the only way I'd accept."

* * *

The first time Pepper comes to him it's a week later. He's in his garage and he looks up at around 7 PM to see her standing at the foot of the stairway. She's still in her work clothes, but looks a little rumpled. He thinks at first she's there on more end of the day business, but then he realizes her shoes and panty hose are off.

"I assume you're here because you've had a glass of wine," he says, setting down the project he'd been working on.

"No. You said only if I came sober. Do I need to take a breathalyzer test?" Her voice is cool. Calm. Utterly without anything but the mildest emotions.

He's shocked. He'd thought they were going to have to run through this a few times before she decided he was serious. He slouches back down in his chair and props his chin in his hand and examines her.

She sighs. "Your house, my house or a hotel, Tony. I don't care which you choose as long as you make it reasonably quick because I have an early morning."

He watches her for another full minute without saying anything. Then he sighs, and his shoulders slump. "Pepper, you know I don't want this. I want to _talk_."

"Yes well, we all want a lot of things in this life, Tony. Whether we deserve them or not."

He finally lets his frustration off the leash just a little. "I think I've earned the right for you to not see me as a bastard." It kills him, but he turns away. "Go home, Pepper. Get some sleep. I'll still be here in the morning. Or a week from now. A month. A year. I'm not in a rush."

There's a long space of nothing but her breathing which he realizes later was suspiciously hitched. "Fine," she finally mutters through tears, to his still turned back.

The next day when he awakes she doesn't show up at the office. It absolutely kills him, but he lets her have her space until her vacation time runs out. According to Jarvis, she's still in the city, so on the last day of her "vacation" he drives over to her condo and sits on her front steps until she gets home. She pulls up to her house at about 2:45. Blinks in surprise to see him, and then sighs and heads toward the fenced off backyard.

She doesn't greet him warmly, but she doesn't frown at him either. He takes it as permission to follow.

Fifteen minutes later she's cutting large, fragrant bunches of lilacs from her bushes and weaving them into some kind of hand held sized wreath. He sits on the picnic table about ten yards away. He doesn't want to press her or force her into anything, and he's given his word he'd wait for her. Of course, he'd stupidly said that assuming he'd still see her every day. But his self control has done a lot of painful stretching in the last few weeks so he's able to sit in her backyard and wait to see whether she's willing to talk to him or not. And if she's not then at least he still gets to watch her.

She picks up the now completed project and carries it with her into her kitchen. "If you have real shoes in your car then get them, Tony. Where we're going business flats will break your neck." And then she disappears inside, closing the screen door behind her.

Ten minutes later she comes out with a backpack. She's wearing jeans and a t-shirt that's a deep, vibrant blue. She shoves a baseball hat on her head and offers him a tube of sun block. "You'll need something like a hat if you have it to help shield your face."

He accepts the offered tube, then goes back to his car and opens the trunk. He didn't know what to expect, had no clue what she'd do. But he'd come prepared. There's a overnight bag in car, and he pulls out the sneakers and slips them on with a bit of relief. They feel much better on his feet and frankly, make him feel as if his footing is more certain.

"How long has it been since you've been mountain hiking?" she asks him as she climbs into her car. It's the first thing she's said that required any kind of direct question

"Umm...a long time." He was assuming Afghanistan didn't actually count.

"Then pace yourself. It's a long steep slope and not all that easy to handle. I've got plenty of water in the car, so don't let yourself get dehydrated."

"Just show me where to go, Pepper. I trust that you know the way."

An hour later they're climbing up a ridge to the south of the city. The sun is setting behind them, and the air is warm against his skin. He's watching her climb several yards in front of him and enjoying the view when she finally speaks.

"I named her Emily," Pepper says very softly. "And she would have been eleven next month if she'd lived." For a long time Tony says nothing. He's too busy trying to figure out why she didn't slap him when he'd first made that ridiculous observation months ago.

Finally he's left with nothing _to_ say, except, "I'm an ass." He means it too, and he wishes he could find a way to take it all back. Never touching her at all would have been easier than this moment, and the lack of emotion that was ghosting her face.

Pepper doesn't seem to hear him. She just keeps right on talking. "Patrick never admitted it, but he blamed me for the accident when it happened. I shouldn't have been up here alone on this ridge. I knew I was pregnant and it was risky, but I'd been doing menial paperwork for a month and a half solid and I was ready to scream. I'd walked this trail a thousand times...I knew its particulars. Nothing should have happened. Doesn't change the fact that it did. I broke three ribs and my leg."

She finally turns to face him, and looks him straight in the eye. "He told me I needed to get over it and we'd have another baby. I was 'young' after all. But every time he touched me after that...I could see the anger and the hate in his eyes."

She shrugs then she shudders. "Traumatic repression. It's been years and there's still nothing there. Well, nothing that lasts. I'm fine at the beginning, but…" She shakes her head, allows her words to die off.

His voice is soft. "Pepper, come here." She doesn't, so he spreads his arms and this time invites her. "Please let me hold you."

She walks over quietly and just stands there beside him with the wreath still clasped between her fingers.

He enfolds her in his arms and leans his cheek against the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Pepper. I'm sorry that your husband was insensitive, because I know these things heal in their own time. I know losing parents isn't quite the same, but I imagine it's close enough to for me to make an educated comparison. I'm sorry I was an ass. And I'm sorry that I somehow helped convince you that all I want from you is sex. Because honestly? I've been dying without you here. And I mean that in just about any way you can imagine. Except one." He kisses her hair and lets her go. "I'm going to go wait in the truck. Take your time. I'll be there when you get back."

"The summit's only another five minutes, Tony. Please...stay." He's a little surprised by her voice and the fact that she's gripping his hand. "I haven't... I don't want to have to make the trip back down alone again." She smiles a little, though it's wobbly. "I haven't been back to this mountain....not for a very long time."

He nods and holds out his hand, sighing in relief when she takes it though he's careful not to hold too tightly. She doesn't say anything more on their hike up to the summit but when they start back down a half an hour later without the wreath she's still holding his hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispers about halfway into the descent. "For the way I...the things I...." She can't seem to finish the sentence. "The subject doesn't bring out the best in me. But you didn't deserve to have me hit you with all that crap."

He squeezes her hand and resists the urge to kiss her. "If we average it out over all the years you've worked for me, I've still given you way more crap, Potts. I think you're entitled." He gently pokes her with one of his fingers. "Though, if you don't show up to work on Monday, I may freak out. Just to warn you."

"I'll be there as normal," she promises simply. "And you better be dressed and showered. Because there's a whole string of meetings that you're scheduled to attend. You've also got briefings to read for all of them. They're on my computer at home."

"Wait...you've been working?" When had she been to the mansion? He'd had the cameras set to alert him if she came in.

Pepper nods. "With a little help from Jarvis. Only half days though...I really did need some rest."

"Well..." He doesn't know whether he's glad she took them off then, or if he wants to dismantle Jarvis.

"Are we good?" she asks him bluntly.

"Of course we're good." This time his hand tightens around hers. "Why would you doubt it?"

"I don't." She smiles. "But I still have to ask. Because I only feed my friends the leftover lasagna that is sitting in my fridge…and I don't know about you but I'm hungry."

He laughs and nods as he studies her face. "I'm a little bit hungry myself.

* * *

Pepper returns to work on Monday, just as she promises. By the end of the day he's been to so many meetings that his head wants to swim. He gets home from the office to find a stack of his favorite Def Leppard CD's in the basement, next to his CD player.

She also orders him the greasiest, best tasting pizza he's had in at least fifteen months.

That's when Tony realizes that he's been playing at being in love with the woman he's in love with. And that he's willing to be infinitely patient for her. So he eats about half the pizza and continues to ruin his hearing while playing his music too loud, and he works on the hot rod longer than he should. When he oversleeps the next morning, it's her voice on his phone waking him up.

"Come on, lazy. Up and at 'em. Your shipment of new parts for the suit just came in."

And that becomes a pattern...a rearranging of habit. It's a change from the time before to the time that came after. He realizes that he can live with after. That he might actually want to stay there forever. Or so he thinks until the day he comes home from a mission and find himself shooed into a warm, sandalwood scented tub.

She sends him into the water with just a hint of a kiss and a smile on her lips.

And then he wants the kiss. He wants her to be _here_ when he comes home. He likes knowing that she's in his home and that she thinks about him enough to take care of more than his needs as a businessman. He wants to be able to do the same for her after a long day without her thinking there's anything more to it than he's noticed she's tired and stressed and needs a chance to unwind.

But, he reminds himself, he will be patient. He will not overwhelm her. He will start small.

That doesn't stop him from finding an excuse to run errands without her one day. Doesn't stop him from stopping at the most expensive jewelry store he can find and bribing the owner into complete silence about the ring he buys.

He's not going to give it to her now. He's not that stupid. There's no way he's going to risk spooking her now when she's coming to him. But the moment she makes the slightest sign she's ready, _he's_ going to be ready.

He wonders how dusty the box will get. Hopes he remembers to dust it off before giving it to her.

In all it's four months from the start to the finish. Not as long as he'd expected but far longer than he'd ever imagined surviving. And like everything else in this world he's now living in, the bitter comes in tandem with the sweet. They're at the offices. There's a woman with a newborn. The new mother goes to use the restroom and leaves the baby in it's seat under the watchful eyes of the office's main desk.

When he comes in from his latest meeting it's to find Pepper crouching in front of the carrier, with a small hand wrapped tightly around her pinky finger. And while he admits it's a good looking baby, he aches with the possibility of actually having a child with Pepper. Before he'd been toying with the idea. It had disgusted him for awhile because his lack of respect for the subject had caused her pain.

But he remembers now that at one point she'd told him that she was almost considering it. And now it's more than just an idea that he's casually toying with.

Seeing her face does nothing to change his mind. The hunger mixed with pain and sadness and wonder and maybe even a little bit of peace. He comes up beside her and crouches down so that he can watch her out of the corner of his eye. "We'd make beautiful babies." He murmurs the words softly and without real intent. Before he can regret them she cracks a little bit of a smile.

"Only if they got my eyes and your coloring. Our noses I'm afraid, wouldn't blend very well." But she doesn't pull away and he realizes maybe there's hope.

"They can have your nose," he offers. "I'm rather partial to it."

She climbs back to her feet then, and heads back into the office. "Don't forget to read the briefings for your next set of meetings," she calls over his shoulder.

And life carries on, because that's what it always does.

* * *

The second time she comes to him, he's in the basement. He wonders if she finds him more approachable down here, when he's stained with grease and half distracted by the diagrams in his mind that are only partially realized in the creations around him. Her appearance is virtually unchanged, except for the bottle of wine in her hand and the fact she's removed her shoes and pantyhose.

"I've cleared the schedule through tomorrow evening." She hands him the bottle of what turns out to be his favorite merlot. She's a little red and obviously nervous, but there's a trust and a stubborn kind of determination in her eyes.

She gestures with the corkscrew. "It's your call on where we go from here. We can open a bottle of wine and chat, sit on the couch and watch a bunch of old movies… Or we can try... _I_ can try..."

She raises her hand toward his lips and when he parts them slightly in anticipation, she shudders. "No promises, Tony. But I'm ready, I think, to take another chance."

He smiles. "I'll go get the glasses, Pepper. Why don't you choose the movie?" When she just stands in the middle of his floor he kisses her forehead, then her cheek, and then her lips. He keeps the contact light, just a mere brush of skin. "I'm not turning you down, Pepper. But let's start with a movie and see where we end up. I'm not going to risk things by hurrying now."

She shivers again into to the kiss, but this time when she pulls back, she smiles. He relaxes more than he'd like to admit at this sign that he didn't make the wrong choice. "Though, you can choose where we watch the movie too. I'm guessing the garage needs to be aired out." There'd been a few...mishaps...today.

She quirks an eyebrow, wrestling with the bottle. "Do I even want to ask?"

He takes the time to think about it. Apparently that's all the answer she needs. She laughs, low and sweet and finally at peace. "Come to think of it, forget the movie. What you need is a shower…no, a dip in the hot tub."

She licks her lips as she considers the option…before the heat floods her face.

He blinks. Then he rubs his eyes and runs his hand over his mouth. He tries to find a way to delicately ask if she'll be joining him or not, because her reaction implies that she's planning to but he's pretty sure she doesn't have a bathing suit at the house. She looks at him from over her shoulder, as she pushes the button to the elevator. "Well are you coming or not?"

He opens his mouth, closes it again. Then he sees a delicious narrowing and twinkling in her eyes. "I'm coming. I'm coming." He follows after her a little helplessly, fully aware that she's wrapped him around her little finger. And he's not particularly upset about it. In fact, he's finding it a comfortable place to be.

But still, a man had his pride. "But not before you," he mutters under his breath.

He's not sure how they manage it, because getting into the hot tub is the most awkward, most exciting, most terrifying thing he's ever done. But Pepper looks amused and peaceful and certain, and so he does it. Mainly for her because he's scared of finally taking things further. "I don't bite, you know," she informs him with a soft smile, as she reaches out an arm and pats the seat right beside her. "Well okay, maybe occasionally... but only if you like it as well."

"Pepper," he groans as he slips into the water. She raises an eyebrow that isn't nearly as innocent as she thinks it is.

He groans again. He wants to tell her everything – how much she means to him, how he doesn't want to hurt her in any way, how he's trusting her to stop him when she needs to, how he's fucking terrified of somehow screwing this up when it's the most important thing in his life. What he ends up saying is, "I love you," before he kisses her again, this time with more urgency.

"I know," is her sober reply, as she carefully straddles his lap. She chews her lip as she shifts against him lightly. And then she shudders just a little.

"Shh." He kisses the lip she's been chewing. "Nothing is going to happen here. In the hot tub," he clarifies. "We've both waited too long. If this happens it will be in my bed where we don't have to relocate for fear of drowning." He kisses her damp shoulder, nuzzles her neck, nips at her ear. "Just relax. That is the purpose of a hot tub." He can tell her to relax because he won't until she does.

He can see her surprise in her eyes, and then some protest but after a moment of studying his face she nods in agreement. "Doesn't mean I'm giving up groping privileges." Her fascinated eyes follow her fingers across the smooth plains of his chest.

"Never tried to talk you out of them." He shivers under her light caresses. "I've been dying for you to get your hands on me for months."

She looks down at his own hands, submerged beneath the water. Reaches down and meshes the fingers of her right hand with his, and lifts both hands to her breast. "So have I," she admits in a whisper. Then she's closing her eyes at the sheer emotional intensity of the touch.

"Do you like this?" he asks as he rolls his thumb over her nipple. Her skin is warm from the water and the steam, and he brings his other hand up to fully cup her. But he doesn't press forward. She hasn't answered him. "Pepper," he whispers. "I'm a little gun shy here, so –"

"It's good." Her voice is soft, unusually low pitched, but all he has to do is look in her eyes to know he's not dealing with fear. Beneath his thumb her nipple hardens, and her hips jump just the slightest bit, grinding against a growing erection.

'Not built for this my _ass_,' he thinks with a cross between amazement and rancor.

It's the only part of his reaction he hides from her. The rest is out in the open because he wants her to know exactly what she does to him. Doesn't want her to doubt for an instant that she holds the majority of the power here, that his skin sings to feel hers. He leans forward and kisses the point of her chin, softly drags his teeth over it. "Watch me," he instructs her as he gives his hands permission to move. "I want to see your eyes."

He slips one hand behind her to trail along the pale length of her back. God, he loves her back. Loves the strength of her spine, and the soft skin, and the dip and swell where it meets her bottom. He'd wanted to run his hand up and down it that night they'd danced and she'd been wearing that dress, but even he wasn't a big enough ass to feel her up in public.

But they're not in public now and he indulges himself. "One day I am going to give you a massage," he promises her. "It will probably involve oil. And I'll probably be naked by the end."

"Tony." His name is a whimper. Of pleasure or relief he doesn't know. "You were saying something about a bed," she manages to say into his ear

He wants to tell her soon, wants to spend more time exploring her. But then he realizes he can do that just as well, if not better, in a bed and that he doesn't want to risk her assuming his reluctance to move her off his lap is something else. So he gently moves her off his lap and climbs out of the hot tub. He dries off and wraps the towel around his waist before holding one out for her. She'd watched the entire procedure, which hadn't really helped matters, but he was determined to go slow.

"You know the way," he says as he brushes a long lock of red back over her shoulder. And the way she blushes a little as they turn in the direction of his room makes his chest tighten.

This is right...probably the rightest thing he's ever done in his whole life.

She leads him into the room, but he's the one who leads her to the bed. Soft kisses and gentle touches are his bait until she comes right up against him when he stops and she's the one controlling the kiss. He doesn't try to hide anything she's doing to him. Not the sounds, not the need to touch, not the erection he presses against her.

When she pulls her body away he lets her, but he doesn't let her break the kiss. After a few seconds she comes back to him, closer than she was before and he wraps his arms around her, then turns and lowers her onto the bed.

"I love you, you know," she acknowledges hoarsely as he comes to a rest above her. "I really didn't think it was possible to feel this way again."

He smiles his most gentle smile as he kisses her collarbone. "You're suited for a lot of things you don't expect." The words were deliberate – meant to cover words that had bruised and battered and numbed what should have been protected. "Pepper, you have to tell me before we get too carried away if I need...anything. Birth control wise." This is more awkward than he'd ever imagined. But then, she's the first one he's ever asked.

With all the others he'd assumed he'd be an idiot not to protect himself.

"You've got a one in four chance...well okay, roughly twenty-three percent. I'm...I'm good with trying right away. Assuming you feel the same." He stares at her, trying to figure out if she's been speaking in Chinese. But, that couldn't be right because he understands the words even if they haven't made sense. Underneath him, she smiling, and she rests her hand against the side of his face. "We'd make beautiful babies, Mr. Stark."

He laughs breathlessly and rests his head against her shoulder. "I promised an endless supply of high heels as a reward to my wife, who wouldn't be able to walk in them for eight months. And I'm afraid I'm going to be a little bit of a possessive prick by insisting that the chances and rewards happen under the same circumstances."

She laughs. "Get on with it, Tony. I don't know how you feel, but it's freezing in here..."

He shakes his head and reluctantly rolls off her. He reaches inside the drawer of his bedside table and pulls out the box. When he turns back to her he offers it in the palm of his hand. "I love you. Kids. No kids." He shrugs. "I love you. Marry me."

She blinks at him once, then blink at the box. "Lord, who taught you the concept of _foreplay_?" But her eye are lively and full of happy tears.

"If this is what it takes…" she tells him softly. "Well, we should have done it years ago. I love you. Yes, I will marry you. Now can we please go back to kissing?" He rolls his eyes and takes the ring out of the box for her before slipping it onto her finger. And then he carefully slides his body on top of hers and kisses her, taking this kiss deeper than the others. When she kisses him back just as passionately he rises up on his forearms and starts moving above her, using his body to tease hers.

Her skin is warm and flushed and her eyes are bright and clear.

"You...are so...impossible." Her voice is full of laughter as she squirms, doing her best to position him for entry. "What exactly are you waiting for...an invitation here? _Move_ already…"

"I believe this is known as foreplay, Ms Potts." He drags his lips down her neck and suckles softly at her collarbone. "I believe you had some complaints about my performance."

"Yes. You're taking too long with too many blasted interruptions." The words are spoken in a grumble of hazy pleasure and her hands come up to cup his buttocks as she tries to guide him home.

"You sure?" he asks, unable to keep the teasing tone out of his voice. He likes the feeling of her hands on his ass, the way her fingers dig in just a little as she tries to control his motion.

"I'm going to kill you when this is over," she promises throatily. And then she rakes her nails across his ass. "_Today,_ for goodness sake, Stark. I'd like to finish and eat before breakfast."

Yeah, he's got nothing to say to that because she just made his mind shut down. He growls a little as he captures her mouth and raises her hips so he can slide into her. He'd meant to go slow, but there was something about knowing it was _her_ that had him sliding home in a single thrust before he even thought to pause.

She moans as his hips contact hers, and then they both lay there totally, _wonderfully_ lost.

* * *

Tony's gotten used to Pepper coming to find him in his garage. Not that she's not always down here anyway on business matters, but that's different than when _she_ comes to find him. She's different when she comes to find him.

He's tinkering with some 3-D blueprints, and absently wraps his free arm around her waist as he makes some changes. His hand settles over her belly without conscious direction though the part of his mind not focused on solving the latest quirk in his suit is preoccupied with whether she is or isn't…

Though he's in no rush to get her pregnant. Like he's told her; kids are a bonus to what they already have. He's enjoying his life with her too much to stress over anything else. Though it'd be nice if he could solve this –

He blinks nearsightedly at the paper Pepper thrusts in front of his face. He has to lean back before he can get his eyes to focus. It looks like a credit card statement.

"Pepper, I use my credit cards a lot. You're going to have to be more specific about why I'm staring at this."

"Try looking at the highlighted items, Tony."

He does. Airline vouchers, check. Bottle of champagne, check. Fruit basket, check.

Well… At least she doesn't know that he mailed a copy of their engagement announcement to her ex along with the fruit basket, the champagne, and a very insincere invitation to the wedding.

"Tony…why did you send my ex-husband a fruit basket?"

He just looks at her. Marvels again that there's a ring that he bought and offered circling her finger. That she'd entrusted him with so much, that she'd let him into her life so fully. She's so smart, and beautiful, and sexy, and sweet and _so_ superior in every way to anything he could have imagined or built for himself. And despite all her scars and the pain he knows they caused her, he embraces them because he doesn't think he would have stood a chance in hell with her otherwise. Some other man, some better man, would have scooped her up during those years he'd had his head up his ass and he'd be without her now.

So like hell he's not going to track down every one of the bastards she dated and thank them for their blindness. Because their loss is his gain and his entire _life_ now.

However, he can't say any of that to Pepper. Instead he wraps both arms around her and gives her a lingering kiss that leaves them both warm. "It's just a guy thing, Pep. You wouldn't understand." If women truly understood how sapped out a man could get, how he could be driven to love and protect and cherish…

Well, matriarchal societies would become a lot more common.

And Tony, who loves and adores and is going to protect her for the rest of her life, has one thing in common with her ex. They're both men. And Tony can guarantee that the other man understands.


End file.
